“Yes, honey. It’s me. I need your help.”
The voice on the other end caught on a gasp that sounded suspiciously like a sob. Kell shoved her chair back and made her way out of the courtroom. “What’s wrong, Mrs. F? Is it Finn or Julia? Are you hurt?”
“I haven’t heard from Findley or you in sixteen years, Kell.” Censure coated her response. “Julia is well, I believe. As am I. For now.”
In the corridor, spiky heels clicked on the marble floor as she made her way to the witness prep room. “What’s happened?” Mind spinning, Kell forced herself to sit and take a deep breath. It wasn’t often that her past found her, and each time it did, it left her reeling. “Are you in trouble, Mrs. F?”
“Yes, I am.” Another breath sighed out. “I’m afraid I’m about to be arrested, Kell. I need you to represent me.”
Kell stared at the scarred conference table, thinking how quickly she could be drawn again to the place she’d tried her best to escape from. Images flashed in a nightmare she’d thought long behind her. Or concealed in a safety-deposit box. She hadn’t realized it took only a phone call. Forcing herself to focus, she asked, “Arrested for what? When?”
“I don’t know exactly.” Mrs. Faraday’s voice trembled slightly, then firmed. “That is to say, I don’t know when, but I want to be prepared.”
“What’s the charge, Mrs. Faraday? Why do you need an attorney?”
“Clay Griffin’s dead, Kell. And I might be arrested for his murder.”
CHAPTER 2
The sleek silver Porsche slid neatly into the lone space in front of the Magnolia Bed and Breakfast. Kell shifted the gear into park and turned off the ignition. With practiced motions, she stowed her PDA in her briefcase, all the while listening intently to the man haranguing her in her earpiece.
“We don’t have time for a pro bono case right now,” David carped. “But if you insist, at least let me send down one of the interns to take the woman’s statement and see if there’s even a case.”
Kell tipped her head back against the smooth leather seat and grappled for patience. One of the joys of partnership with David Trent was his single-minded focus on the bottom line. His fascination with building their coffers left her free to practice law and burnish their reputation as lawyers to the stars. The downside, of course, came when she took a client without a marquee name or a trust fund. Thinking of the hundred thousand dollars sitting untouched, she corrected, “I can cover the costs, David. Bill me out at my regular rate.”
“Using your draw? I’m afraid your new toy has put a dent in your funds,” David contradicted. “And a little old lady running an orphanage can’t afford you to cover a parking ticket and certainly not a murder trial.”
In a placating tone that usually worked, she reminded him, “The woman’s name is Mrs. Faraday, and I’ve known her most of my life. She wouldn’t have called if wasn’t important.”
“I appreciate your altruistic streak, darling, but we have bills to pay. As our rainmaker, I need you here for the cameras. Today.”
Closing her eyes behind the wide-framed sunglasses perched on a nose that was just shy of pert, she bit back a sigh. “David, we won the Brodie case with a unanimous verdict. You can handle the press without me. The standard lines about how we knew he was innocent. Blah, blah, blah.”
“Brodie is already yesterday’s news. That fast verdict didn’t even give CourtWatch TV time for a verdict clock,” he whined. “You’re the story here. Kell Jameson, attorney extraordinaire. In the past year, you’ve successfully defended the NFL’s leading rusher, a best-selling author, and now the country’s most beloved actor. What if a reporter wants to talk to you? Thirty minutes in a murder trial decision might be some kind of a record.”
“Twenty-eight minutes, actually. And if a reporter calls, I’ve got my cell.” Reaching up, Kell slid her hand through dark brown hair that appeared black except in direct sunlight. The shoulder length mane had been duly treated and blown dry by her stylist on Monday, and the silken strands felt cool in the rapidly heating car. If she didn’t turn the engine back on in a few seconds, though, the hot, wet Georgia summer would force its way inside.
She twirled a strand around a coral tipped-fingernail. Perhaps logic would work where sentiment failed. “The longer we fight about this, the longer it will take for me to get back to Atlanta. I promised Mrs. Faraday I would drive down today and hear her out. I can’t believe the woman I know harmed anyone—and no one else will either.”
“Explain to me again why you even need to be there,” David demanded, annoyance growing. He had plans for the weekend that included an exclusive spa and overpriced room service, sans cat. Not a meaningless trip to a forgotten hole in middle Georgia. “I made reservations at Barnsley Gardens for the weekend.”
Kell felt a twinge of irritation, but only for an instant. David’s tenacity was his best feature, so she couldn’t complain when it strayed into personal territory. Still, she said firmly, “You shouldn’t have, David.”
“Give me a chance, darling. We work well in the office and the courtroom. Why not try for three out of three?”
“Because I don’t have the patience or the energy to find a new partner if we fail.” Which they no doubt would. Kell had a romantic track record that was the mirror opposite of her courtroom success. There was no way she’d let David become the next casualty. “You have plenty of work to keep you occupied this weekend. We got requests this week from L.A., with trial dates starting in November. With you on the Susan Antonetti drug-possession case, and Malikah finishing up the Tengley shoplifting trial, we’ve got more than enough work to keep the firm afloat while I take a short trip.”
“Assuming this isn’t a ruse to get something else out of you.” David shifted his tone to concerned. “Don’t you find it suspicious that a woman you haven’t heard from in sixteen years calls you out of the blue, Kell? She hasn’t been charged with a crime. Hell, according to what you told me, we don’t even know if a crime has been committed. A drug dealer that she ran off her property is found dead.”
“Your point?”
“No offense to your friend, but you’ve been in the press almost every day for ten weeks. Isn’t there the slightest possibility that this Mrs. Faraday might not be on the level with you?”
Without hesitation, Kell responded coolly, “None at all. Mrs. F wouldn’t do that to me. To anyone.” She released a tense breath. “David, she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real mother. I owe her.”
Recognizing the steel in her voice, he relented. “Today’s Friday. I assume I can expect to see you on Monday?”
“I doubt it’ll take that long. I’ll talk to Mrs. F, calm her down, and see what I can find out about the police’s case. In fact, have Roland run a background check on Clay Griffin. I want priors, bankruptcies, speeding tickets, missed dental appointments, anything.”
David grumbled, “You said there’s nothing to worry about. Why do you need all this information?”
“Because that’s how I win.” And because of the nagging headache that had plagued her since yesterday afternoon and the mention of Clay Griffin’s name. She didn’t add that some of the items on his rap sheet would be very, very familiar to her. “Malikah should contact the M.E.’s office in Macon. Tracy Hoover.” Anticipating his question, she explained, “Hallden is a small county. They send their forensic work to Bibb County.”
“Will she tell us anything?”
“We’re old friends. Just have Malikah give her a call and use my name.”
Kell felt a shadow fall across the driver’s window, which she ignored. Probably a resident trying to get a closer peek at her car. She’d bought it with the retainer on the Brodie case, and she doubted Hallden’s streets had seen a Porsche before.
Patting the leather steering wheel, she rattled off additional assignments. No use in wasting a perfectly good weekend. The associates at Jameson Trent would whine to David about the extra work, then they’d jockey for a seat
at the table for trial. Hunger and avarice were essential to her line of work, and neither was in short supply. “I need to get a status update on the McCall investigation. We go to trial in eight weeks. Assign that to Doug Collins. He’s pretty good with asking questions.”
When a knuckle rapped on her window, she waved the intruder away. “I’ll fax you the markup of the Tatum brief, once I’ve settled in tonight.”
“Ma’am.” The man outside her car knocked sharply on the tinted pane. “Ma’am, please step out of the vehicle.”
She whipped her head to window, startled. “What?”
“Huh?” David asked in puzzlement. “What’s going on?”
Kell made the khaki-wearing interloper instantly. “There’s a cop at my window. I’ve got to run. See you on Monday.” Without waiting for a reply, she snapped the phone shut. Twisting the key in the ignition, she let the engine purr on and released the window. The glass slid down quietly, revealing a tall uniformed man holding a yellow and white citation pad. He towered over the low-slung sports car, permitting her only a view of an athletic torso and long, elegant fingers busy writing her a traffic ticket.
Pasting on her best smile, Kell peered up at the meter maid. Darn. She thought she’d slid under the traffic light unseen. “Is there a problem, Officer?”
“I’ve been flashing my lights at you for nearly a quarter of a mile.”
The bass timbre of the voice matched the powerful build. “Big case,” she apologized lightly. “I must have been distracted for a second. Won’t happen again.”
“It happened three times, Miss.”
Three lights? She hadn’t noticed. “Are you certain?”
He repeated blandly, “Please step out of the vehicle.”
Exasperation crept into her pleasant expression. Stepping out of the vehicle was cop-speak for trouble. Even if she had run a few lights, which she didn’t concede, she couldn’t imagine why he would be at her window demanding that she present herself like a perp. Indulging him, she asked, “Can you tell me what the problem is, Officer?”
“At the present, it is your refusal to step out of the vehicle, Miss.” He paced away and clasped his hands behind him. “Now, Miss.”
Kell folded her hands on the steering wheel and studied the officer as he came into full view. Closely cropped black hair curled against a high forehead. Sunlight slanted over his features, revealing a square jawline that dimpled in the center and cheekbones angled enough to cut class. Shades covered his eyes, which were likely glaring, if the tight lips were any indication.
In other circumstances, she might have found the sculpted mouth appealing, the rugged face handsome. “Why don’t you tell me what you want? If it’s a peek inside the car, I’m happy to oblige. I know folks rarely get to see a Porsche this close.”
“Miss.” The word bore no resemblance to a question.
Reclining into the seat, Kell switched tactics. In the tone she used with recalcitrant witnesses, she said, “I’d rather not get out of my car until I understand the nature of the problem, Officer.”
“Get out of the vehicle, and I’ll be happy to explain.”
She knew better than to antagonize law enforcement, but something in the gravelly voice raised her hackles. The cool interior had been transformed into a makeshift sauna in a matter of seconds, and her temperature rose to match. “Hallden doesn’t have three traffic lights, sir. I must assume you are simply trying to harass me.”
“What I’m doing is my job.” He placed a hand on the car door. “Which will include an arrest in about thirty seconds.”
Kell bristled. “Arrest on what grounds? Even if I ran a couple of lights, that doesn’t warrant more than a citation.”
“You must be a lawyer.”
The summary left little doubt of his opinion of her profession. To taunt, she corrected, “Actually, I’m a defense attorney.”
“Figures.” He braced a hand on the roof and brought his face down to hers. “When I attempted to stop you earlier, I intended to warn you about your speed and disregard for traffic safety. My current issue, Miss, is your failure to obey an officer.” He smiled then, a sensuous, taunting smile. “Keep talking and let’s see what else we can come up with.”
With a gasp at the blatant threat, Kell jutted her chin out defiantly. “I’ll have your badge.”
“You can try.” With an easy motion, he unhooked his radio and depressed a button. “Curly?”
Static gave way to a bass voice that could have scratched the paint from her car. “Yes, Luke?”
“Give Jonice a call for me, will you? Have her meet me in front of the Magnolia. Bring Rosie.”
“Yes, sir. It’ll be about ten minutes, though. She’s been out at the Houston place. Something’s wrong with the tractor. Coughin’ smoke something terrible.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here.” Sheriff Luke Calder rested his forearms onto the window frame. The lady lawyer shifted away, then returned to her insolent position, eyes staring balefully at him. He admired the audacity of the move, almost as much as the cameo face that looked ready to spit nails. Lord, she was beautiful. And she knew it.
Luke studied his sudden adversary. Masses of sable swept away from a widow’s peak and cascaded to shoulders framed by two thin straps. The white top veed into curves that nudged his pulse into attention. Damnably long legs were framed by a flowered skirt that left just enough to the imagination.
But it was the face that drew his focus. Wide-set eyes looked out from a delicate triangle that melded graceful and bold in equal measure. Hers was a face that got a man’s attention and held it with melted chocolate eyes and a courtesan’s mouth.
When that mouth pouted at him, he took a firmer grip on his thoughts. Midday was his turn to patrol the mean streets of Hallden County. At a population of 6,708, if the welcome sign was to be believed, the circuit took twenty minutes on a good day and ended at the city limits of Hallden proper.
Indeed, he’d been on his way to find lunch when the steel gray 911 Carrera zipped under a yellow light at the county line. Rather than raise the siren, he decided to follow the leadfoot into town. The driver had been too busy talking on the phone to notice his tail. She’d pulled into the Magnolia and still didn’t register the flashing blue lights.
Which reminded him—he owed her a citation for parking in front of a hydrant. Luke measured the cocky tilt of her pointed chin and the flash of rebellion in the eyes that were trying to bore holes into him. His guess was that she understood the gift nature had given her with a gorgeous face and body to match. No doubt, she relied on both. Men probably took one look and catered to her every whim. He bit back a grin. Wrong town, lady. “Can I have your name, Miss?”
“Kell Jameson.” She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting for a reaction. “Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”
“Should I have?” he remarked quizzically, well aware of who she was. Not that he could remember much beside his own name right now. Up close, the caramel porcelain skin carried a scent that teased his senses, appearing and disappearing on notes of spice and sex. A fist of heat punched at his gut and his tripping pulse sped to a gallop.
Luke hurriedly straightened and scribbled the name on the pad, added his signature and ripped off the white cover sheet. “This one is because you’re parked in front of a hydrant, Miss.” He passed the ticket to her through the open window.
Grateful he moved away, Kell released a breath she hadn’t been aware of taking. With the sun in her eyes, he’d been handsome. Closer in, the ruggedly handsome face was extraordinary. Add in the way he said Miss with a drawl that was neither southern nor western, and she nearly forgot what they were discussing.
Oh, yes. Traffic tickets. In defense as much as defiance, Kell folded her arms, refusing to accept the sheet. “I did not run three lights, and I’m not accepting a citation from you.”
“Well, yes, ma’am, you did and, yes, you are.” He watched in fascination as color flushed her cheeks and bowed the mouth that would
follow him into his dreams. A routine traffic stop had become a war of wills for her. Interesting.
Because Jonice wouldn’t be here for a while, he decided to enjoy himself. Fighting with a gorgeous woman had to be more fun than what waited for him back at the station. Paperwork, a dead junkie, and two John Does. Luke extended his hand inside the window and instructed, “Take the ticket, Ms. Jameson.”
“No, sir, I will not.” Kell twisted to her right and gestured out the window to the front door of the Magnolia. “I am parked on a public street, and I’m not in front of a hydrant, Officer. Perhaps they didn’t teach you the difference in meter maid school.”
The insult slapped at him. “Excuse me?”
“No, excuse me,” Kell sneered with false politeness. “Traffic enforcement officer is what they call you these days, right?”
“You think I’m the meter maid?”
Talking over him, she continued, “And one day, if you harass a sufficient number of tourists, they might promote you, hmm? A warning, though, Officer. Pick your targets better. Stay away from the ones who can read and write. Like me.”
Luke gritted his teeth. “Be careful, Ms. Jameson. Be very careful.”
Revving up, Kell taunted, “Or what? You’ll write me another ticket?”
“Absolutely.” Pride pricked, he dropped the first citation into her lap. “This one will get you started. Give me a second to make out the next one.”
In full righteous outrage, Kell sputtered, “This is a blatant abuse of power. And I’ll prove it.” She snatched her phone from the passenger seat. “A picture of your incompetence should do the trick.”
Luke glowered. He didn’t take himself too seriously, but being called the meter maid raised his hackles. “By all means. Take a photo for the judge. I appreciate the help. Maybe you can record yourself talking, and save me the trouble of explaining your attitude problems too.”
When she muttered a curse, Luke jerked at the handle, and Kell sprang from the car. The ticket he’d dropped in her lap fell to the asphalt. She ignored the paper and marched to the rear of the car. Glaring over her shoulder at him, she pointed down at the sidewalk. “There’s no hydrant here.”
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